Evil Maybe

Chapter 13- Max

I woke up in the morning smiling like an i***t, feeling like an i***t, and with mass amounts of confidence that should not apply to idiots like me.

I was dizzy with glee from the previous night, and I decided not to let anything get me down that day at school. I turn towards my alarm clock- 6:30 am. Nice and early. I pulled on my most comfortable jeans and my favorite t-shirt, emblazoned with the faded PlayStation logo. I picked out clean socks and slid on sneakers. I brushed my hair, my teeth, and finally washed my face. I practically skipped out of the bathroom and entered the kitchen at 6:40, before my dad and brother were awake.

“Special breakfast, oh yeah... making the food, oh yeah... waffly-waffles, oh yeah...” I sang quietly as I danced around the kitchen, picking up supplies to make waffles like my mother taught me to all those many years ago. When I finish gathering the supplies (and tearing apart the kitchen in the process), I plunk them on the table and begin to work.

I make the batter and pour it carefully in the waffle iron. I plug it in and organize myself while I wait for the waffles to be done. Strawberries, powdered sugar, syrup, bananas, and a rarely seen can of whipped cream are scattered all over the table. I put them upright and set them in a line at the side of the table. When the waffles are ready, I take them out. Stunned by how scalding they are, I nearly drop my breakfast, but I catch them just in time to throw them on the kitchen counter. Mercifully, they didn’t break, so I picked them up with tongs and put them on the island with the other condiments.

I put the waffles on plates. Slowly but surely, I decorate them. No, decorate is an understatement- I drench the waffles in all sorts of toppings. Being who I am, all the toppings were perfectly symmetrical.

When I’m finished, it’s 7:32. My family should be out in a few minutes. I survey the scene. Strawberry tops, whipped cream blobs, powdered sugar, and banana peels littered the island. Whoops.

I run across the room and pull the rubbish can to the island. I scoop the mess to the edge of the table with my hands and sculpt it into a small circle. Making sure the can is open, I swept my hand across the table and the mess fell in the bin. I sop up the remaining powdered sugar with a wet paper towel and that goes in the bin with all the food debris.

I put one plate next to the microwave on the counter and one at my usual spot on the table. I’ve just sat down cross legged on the less-than-comfortable kitchen chairs when the rest of my family walks in. My father looks around the room with a hard glare.

“Morning,” I quip. “Norman, there’s a waffle for you on the counter. Father, I washed your apple.” I look down and continue to eat, ignoring the dumbstruck look on my dad’s face and the grin on my brother’s.

Miraculously, today was a half day. Why, I couldn’t tell you. I guess the school was caught up in more important things, namely the war. Master Angus and Mistress Nadia probably had more pressing matters than running a school. I made my usual walk to school and went to my usual classes. The day ended at 1:05 instead of the usual 3:06. There was hardly any homework, so I decided to finish it in the courtyard in the center of EVIL headquarters. It was pretty much the only bright spot in the whole facility, with pink trees, green grass, and a blue pond. There were a few wooden benches around as well, perfect for reading or quiet time.

The air hit me in the face as I walked out of the doors of the stuffy school. I looked back and forth across the schoolyard. The area was deserted- except for one person.

Lucy.

Why would she be here this late, I thought, especially on a half day? She looked like she was waiting for someone, but no one would be coming this late. Before I could think about what I was doing, I strode across the grass and sat next to her on the frozen bench. She looked up and gave me a halfhearted smile. “Hi Max.”

“Hey.” I nod towards her empathetically. “Why are you here this late? It’s 5:00.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.”

She giggles, her expression still grim. “My mom said she’d pick me up an hour ago. I don’t know why I get hopeful.” She turns to look out at the living sector with despondance. “She’s never gonna come.”

I get concerned. “How come?”

She sniffs and turns back to me. “That’s a story for another day.”

We sit together in silence for a few minutes. Whether it’s comfortable or awkward, I can’t tell. Eventually, I make yet another leap of faith.

“Hey,” I place my hand on her shoulder, “You... maybe wanna come over to my house? To do homework, I mean.”

Her expression lights up. “Seriously?” she exclaims, spit spraying in my face. Realizing what she’s doing, she recoils. “Uh- er- ah- I mean, uh, yeah I guess, don’t have anything better to do...”

I wipe my face and laugh. “Off we go, then.” I declared, taking her arm (much to her delight) and setting off towards the living quadrant.

A few minutes later, we reach the courtyard. We sat on the nicest bench under a cherry blossom tree. I leaned against the armrest and swung my legs up, inviting Lucy to do the same. She smiled and obliged. We sat facing each other, legs between the other’s, and only talked when we needed something:

“Could you move your leg a bit to the left?” “Sure. Sorry.”

“Hey, do you know what the factored expression of 12x + 60 would be?” “Uh... 12 (x + 5).” “Thanks.”

The comfortable silence matched the idyllic air in the courtyard. Finally, Lucy put down her math book. I’d finished twenty minutes before she did, but I didn’t want to tell her that, so I’d been sketching her the whole time. In a way, I was fulfilling her request that faithful day in math class.

“I’m done,” she lisped. “What should we do now?”

“Let’s stay here a little while longer.” I respond. True, there was a reason I wanted to linger, but now was not the time to disclose that to Lucy.

“It’s so pretty here,” Lucy says dreamily.

“I know, right? I love going here to sketch or read. Or get away from my own thoughts...” I trail off.

She sighs. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I look away. “How did you know?”

“It’s a power I have.” she says quietly.

Sighing, I tell her what I was hoping to tell her a long time form now. I move my leg away from the back of the bench to reveal a silver plaque that had long-since rusted. It read:

“ Dedicated to Annika Selene-Corriner. Beloved wife, mother, and friend. 1982-2013.“

Lucy nodded in understanding. “This courtyard was your mother’s idea.”

I nod back. “I go here to feel like I’m with her.” I lean back against the armrest again and tilt my head, closing my eyes.

I feel her move and put her hand on my arm. “I know what it’s like to be... lacking in the parents department.”

I open my eyes and look at her. “What?”

“I’ll tell you another time.”

I look at the sky and see it’s going to be dark soon.

“We should get inside,” we say at the same time. We laugh and get up off the bench. We talk all the way to the doors and when we get there, I hold the door open. Lucy curtsies jokingly and I bow. We laugh again and head to floor 39.

We’re splayed out on my bed several hours later, laughing about who knows what anymore. Lucy is wiping tears off her face, as I’ve rolled off the bed laughing. It’s great to have a friend for once. Now that I’m communicating with her (no, Lucy’s interminable flirting doesn’t count), I’m seeing more and more things that are reminding me of Ree.

I hear Lucy take a quivering breath. “Okay, okay,” she giggles, “let’s calm down.”

I sit up and turn to a red-faced Lucy. She takes one look at me and bursts into laughter again.

“What?” I ask, puzzled at her reaction. Lucy turns on her phone between fits of laughter and turns on the front facing camera. I take one look at myself and explode in laughter again. I see why she’s laughing now- my hair was sticking out all over the place from my fall off the bed, and I looked ridiculous. Lucy starts to cry again from laughing so hard and my stomach is sore. Two minutes later we’re still laughing. I didn’t know my stupid hair could be so funny. Finally, the laughter dies down and I get back on the bed and fix my hair. We lean against the wall my bed is adjacent to.

I feel Lucy let out a deep breath.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

Lucy looks over at me. “I told you I would tell you my story. Now seems like a good time. If you want to hear it, that is...?”

I felt the happy atmosphere in the room drop to the floor and dissipate. “I guess... now’s a good a time as ever, right?” I say hesitantly.

The redheaded, usually rambunctious girl beside me turns a shade of white I would not have thought possible with her pale skin. Lucy’s shoulders tense as she tries to brace herself for the evidently difficult story she’s about to tell.

Exhaling, she says, “Alright. Here we go.” She looks up at me and stares directly into my eyes with a confidence I never knew. “ All of what I’m about to tell you is true. Do you understand me?”

Shocked, I can only nod dumbly, and I’m reminded of the time Ree threatened to put my insides on the outside. Zombie nodding, she’d called it. Lucy grabs my face to stop my robotic nods and begins.

“I was a mistake. My mom and dad had me when they were teenagers. My dad was furious that my mom decided to go through with raising me, and that she had even had me in the first place. He thought it was her fault. Their relationship had always been... complicated, but now he had baby me to deal with. My mom kept trying to convince him that this was a good thing, that they loved each other, and now they could start a life together, that a child was what they wanted. My dad wouldn’t have it. I woke up early that morning- 4:26 am. I looked out the window and I... I watched him leave...” Lucy’s voice broke. I reached out to put my hand on arm but she held out a hand to stop me. She wiped her eyes and continued.

“I was five. My mom was 23 and my dad was 24. I was confused... I didn’t remember my dad getting sent on a mission anytime soon. And why did he need a suitcase? I walked to my mom’s room, but she wasn’t there. The room was empty of people, as well as most of my dad’s belongings. But little, innocent five year old me thought nothing of it and went downstairs to make breakfast. When I got down the hall of our apartment, I saw my mother sat at the kitchen table and immediately felt safe. If my mother is calm, then everything must be fine. I ran over and hugged her. I didn’t think anything was wrong...I naively assumed she’d greet me like she always did.”

Lucy smiled softly but disdainfully at the memory. “She’d scoop me up and twirl me around in our little kitchen and say, ‘Good morning, my little princess. How’d you sleep?’ I remember looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to do what she usually did, but she didn’t do anything. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She didn’t speak. I shook her a little but she was stoic. I was scared... I thought maybe she was comatose or something. So I used the technique she had taught me for battle. ‘ Mommy, blink if you can hear me,’ I’d screamed in her ear.” Lucy chuckled darkly and stared at the bed with an equally dark grimace.

“At least she had the good grace to blink. Her eyelids fluttered. I thought she’d been testing me, that she’d break into a grin and praise me. I waited. No response. I was getting desperate. The silence was a reminder of the one less person in my house. I yelled louder and louder, more and more often. Then the shrieking began. I was feeling hopeless. But then... then my sadness and desperation turned to rage. What a mean trick mommy is playing on me, I’d thought, can’t she see how upset I am? I was boiling with anger. I needed attention. I screamed, but this time, in fear. I shrieked, but this time, in rage. And finally, words weren’t enough. I reached out and hit her.”

Lucy’s voice was thick and she grimaced at the toxic memory. A few more silvery tears slipped down her cheeks, but she plowed on, words spilling out of her mouth like she needed to get the story up in the air before she went mad.

“But she didn’t respond at all. So I hit her again. And again. And again. And I hit her and kicked her and pulled her hair. Weak, little five-year-old blows, but blows just the same. Only a few years later did I realize how awful I’d been. I probably had just made it worse. So the violence and hollering and crying continued. But she was silent and still the whole time. I would have preferred she’d lashed out and hit me, or sent me to my room. The abuse went on for a long time- until I finally threw the last slap.

“I drew blood from her left arm near her shoulder. I was horrified at what I’d done. The shock of the situation came crashing down. I fell on the cold tiles and curled up and had a good cry. I knew I was never going to see my father again and that my mother would never be the same. No more ‘Hey princess.’ No more cuddles. No more normal life.

“I kept trying to encourage my mom over the next couple years but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Our house fell into disarray. I had to get food from The Shelves.” The Shelves were what people at E.V.I.L called the donors who handed out food to those who needed it. “My mother slowly lost it. She almost never comes out of her room. When she does, it’s for food that I have to make, or to use the bathroom I clean, or because she’s cramped up in her stuffy old room. She’ll talk to me- make empty promises, ask me how school is. Small talk. Not the type of conversations a daughter and a mother should share. No asking who I’m friends with. No asking if I need anything. No apologies for that day eleven years ago.” Lucy gritted her teeth for a second, but then her expression turned soft. “The people at The Shelves decided that I needed some interaction, so they bought me three tiny kittens.”

Lucy smiles a bit, reminded of her three felines. “Mimi, Dottie and Lullabelle. They’re like the family I never had. I never see or speak of my dad. I got rid of all the pictures of him in the house. I didn’t destroy them, I just put little force fields around them and sent them into the sky.”

Lucy demonstrates by picking up a coaster on my bedside table, putting a small, shimmering purple orb around it, and pushing it up into the air with her fingertips. The bubble bounced against the wall but didn’t burst. Slowly, it floated above my lap and opened up with a soft pop. The coaster landed in my lap harmlessly. Lucy continued.

“Maybe they’ve reached him, maybe they haven’t. But he needs to be reminded. I don’t care if he feels spiteful, or liberated, or regretful, or angry. He needs to be reminded that we exist. What he’s done to our lives. And maybe, if it doesn’t reach him, they’ll end up in someone else’s yard or their front steps. And maybe it’ll remind them of how good they have it. That they need to hold on to the people they hold dear, because most times they don’t last forever.”

Lucy swallowed hard and dragged her arm across her eyes. She looked up at my shocked expression for a moment, then back down at my crinkled comforter. She rubbed her neck. “I should just... go.” Lucy got up to leave. But I was too quick for her. I bolted off the bed and caught her mid stride. I pulled her close to me. The back of her head was against my chest and the top of her head just peeked over my shoulder. She was very tense.

A few moments of stillness hung in the air. Then suddenly, Lucy turned and cried out, “Oh!” She flung her arms around my shoulders and sobbed. I pulled her even closer to me. She let out the tears she’d been holding in for a decade. Her sobs shook her whole body and mine. Knowing this would go on for a while (and being totally accepting of that), I knelt down on the floor. Lucy followed. We sat down, her head still buried in my my shoulder, sobs still racking her poor body.

It wasn’t until 9:30 that the crying stopped. I may have even cried a bit too, for her losses... and maybe even mine. Lucy took a quivering breath and looked up at me. “Thank you.”

I looked back at her and drew her tight once more. “Of course.”

When she pulled away, her eyes left mine for a moment. She looked appalled and embarrassed. “Oh, Max,” she cried, “your favorite shirt!”

I looked down. My shirt was soaked, but I didn’t care. Lucy’s emotional state was worth it. She may be insane, and persistent, and ceaselessly flirtatious, but we were the only friends we had, and I wanted it to stay that way.

I merely smiled at Lucy and stood up. I strode quickly to my dresser, so as not to leave Lucy alone on the floor too long, picked up my sketchbook, and hurriedly sat back down. I opened the worn leather book and flipped through it for a bit before I found what I was looking for.

“I didn’t want to tell you, but I finished my assignments some time before you did, so...” -I unveil the notebook page- “I fulfilled your request.”

Lucy’s face goes from confusion to bewilderment to excitement to joy as she stares lovingly at the picture I drew of her.

“What do you think?” I ask tenderly.

Her gaze meets mine. “I love it. With everything in me.”

I smile and start to rip out the page when Lucy slaps my hand. I draw back, surprised.

“What in the name of all that’s evil are you doing?!” she cries.

Shocked, I can only mumble “Giving you your picture”.

“Oh, no no no!” Lucy says, laughing, “It’s your art. I couldn’t take that from you, it would be stealing. I love it, but I want you to keep it.”

She touched the page and smiled at it fondly, then closed the notebook in my hands. Lucy stole a glance at the clock.

“I should be going,” she murmured sadly. Lucy pushed her hair out of her eyes and headed towards the door. She suddenly stopped and turned slowly towards me. “Hey, Max?”

I look up at her. Her expression is a mixture of fear, anxiety, and protectiveness. “Yeah?” I ask empathetically.

She stared through me, emphasizing how serious she was about her next words. “Can you make me a promise?” she says quietly.

“I can try,” I responded.

Lucy stared even harder through me, tears brimming her eyes.

“Promise me you won’t die in the war. You’re all I have left.”

She walked out the door.